


labyrinthian

by JackyM



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Canon Asexual Character, Canon Bisexual Character, Jon Sims Bi Pride January 2021, LGBTQ Themes, M/M, Nonbinary Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-26
Updated: 2021-01-26
Packaged: 2021-03-18 17:46:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28996194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JackyM/pseuds/JackyM
Summary: Jon has some feelings about gender.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Comments: 3
Kudos: 82
Collections: bi jon sims celebration





	labyrinthian

**Author's Note:**

> My addition for Jon Sims Bi Pride 2021! I decided to do the prompt for "Gender", because I really really love nonbinary Jon. And, while I'm not bi, I am nonbinary and I'm used to my orientation often being used to cancel out my being nonbinary, when that's not how this sort of thing works. 
> 
> So! I decided to write this fic about Jon being nonbinary and bi to show how being nobinary isn't a "third gender" and intersects with your romantic orientation in all sorts of ways, and doesn't need to fit any specific criteria or specific labels to be valid. Jon is bi and nonbinary, and those two things don't cancel each other out in some way or another. Definitely projecting here and this was really validating to write honestly. =w=
> 
> I do NOT headcanon Martin as cis but I haven't settled on a headcanon yet so. >w<;;; I also don't know when this fic takes place besides "nebulously post canon in a happier AU".
> 
> Special shoutout to logicalDemonness for looking this one over too to make sure it was depicting bisexuality respectfully! owo

Martin was busy making tea in the kitchen, and Jon wouldn’t have known if he couldn’t see him from where he was on the sofa. He was always quiet like that. Jon rested his head on the back of the sofa, sighing softly and getting Martin’s attention. Martin stopped reaching up for the tea, and looked at Jon, knitting his eyebrows together. “What?” The question came out like a laugh, answering itself. Martin knew what, and he still couldn’t believe it. 

Jon leaned further into the sofa. “Nothing. I love you.”

“That’s not _nothing_ , Jon.”

“I just mean I don’t need anything from you. I’m just looking.”

“You do that a lot, I hear.”

“People say things, all the time. You can’t believe everything you hear.”

“Oh, sure. Of course,” Martin huffed a little more laughter, “stop distracting me. I’m making you tea.”

“The kettle whistles when it’s done. You can keep talking and looking at me, so I can see your face.”

“Actually, no, not with green tea. You need to take it out before it comes to a boil like that. The leaves aren’t oxidized, so you don’t need as much heat to--” Martin looked at Jon again, and then shook his head. “No, no, right, sorry, you--sorry. Stupid.”

“No, no,” Jon gave Martin a little smile, “keep explaining. I-I’m not trying to be patronizing, I--I want to listen to you. Learn new things every day the regular way.”

“Oh. Well. I was just going to say they don’t need as much heat to bring the flavor out. If they were more oxidized, like um--like oolong, I guess, if you have no taste--then you’d need more heat.”

“Isn’t oolong a type of green tea?”

“It is, yeah. Just more oxidized. That’s why it needs more heat. But less oxidized than black tea. They...do something to the leaves, let them all oxidize differently. Oolong’s like, in the middle.”

“Is it?”

“Yeah. Not sure what the appeal of it is, just go with black tea if you want something stronger, but some people...” Martin shrugged. “I should go check, by the way. Make sure it’s not too hot, or the flavor won’t come out right.”

“Go on then.”

Martin turned around, and then twisted his neck backwards. “Jon?”

“Martin?”

“I love you.”

“I love you too. Go stop our tea from tasting badly.”

Martin went to finish getting the tea ready, and Jon sunk back into the sofa. He sighed again, quieter this time. 

He did want something, actually, but he was having nothing but trouble finding the words.

It wasn’t that Jon didn’t think he could tell Martin, or ask something of him. He knew he could, and that he didn’t need to lay it out for him, explain every detail of it, either. And Jon was grateful for that, because he himself didn’t completely understand what _it_ was. There were a variety of words that he could use to describe it, but none of them really fit exactly how he felt. Some portions of their definition resonated for him, but he didn’t have one, cohesive word for it his entire experience.

Truth be told, Jon didn’t feel he needed one. If it came down to it, there was one word he could use. A broad adjective, but one that worked nonetheless. But it was the convenience of one word, really, that left him feeling annoyed. There wasn’t one thing he could call himself that would effortlessly describe how he felt and not have to dive deeper into his feelings on the matter. Not wanting to bother Martin, surely, was a large one. Jon knew he didn't have to explain it all, but a part of him felt he should. Like Martin deserved an explanation, though Jon couldn't say why he felt that way. He didn’t _want_ to have to explain it, not when he didn’t completely understand it himself. All he really wanted was for Martin to use other words to refer to him, ones that more accurately encompassed his gender and presentation, and Jon couldn’t find the words for asking even that of him. 

Although, a simple “could you use other words to refer to me” certainly didn’t seem like a bad option. Jon narrowed his eyes and brought his index finger to his lips, pensively. He didn’t want to be an inconvenience. But it wasn’t one, not if he needed something. Was “needed” the right word? Jon wasn’t sure. He wanted it, he knew that. Want, sometimes, ends up being the precursor to need, the first step in doing something that he didn’t know was so beneficial. That changing things, like the words used to refer to a person, ends up being freeing, affirming, in a way that would have remained a secret otherwise. 

“Tea’s ready.”

Martin’s voice startled Jon out of his thinking. He took a second to compose himself. “Ah. Thank you.”

“Did you want honey or lemon in it?”

“Just one of each.” 

“Right-o.”

Martin came into the living room a few moments later, pressing a mug with a photo of a little kitten into Jon’s hands and sliding next to him on the sofa. Setting his own mug on the table, he took a strand of Jon’s hair in his hands and began absent-mindedly twisting it together, not quite braiding. Jon looked at Martin, and smiled a little. He reached forward and ran one of his own hands through Martin’s hair. Martin looked back at Jon, smiling at him, but with some concern on his face. Jon frowned.

“What?”

“Oh, er,” Martin’s eyes darted away, “nothing.”

Jon narrowed his own eyes, slowly, with worry. “Martin.”

Martin tensed up, slightly, biting his inner lip. “Okay, well. I just. You usually only ask for one of each in your green tea when you’re thinking about something really hard. And don't quite care for taste as much..” Color creeped onto Martin’s face, gently staining it. “That’s all. Sorry, I--I’m not trying to jump to conclusions. It’s just making me worry a little.”

“I...I wasn’t aware I did such a thing.”

“Well, not always. Just...something I’ve noticed, enough to be a pattern.”

“It’s interesting to hear, really,” Jon tilted his head, “it’s been some time since I’ve been made aware of my domestic habits.”

“They’re adorable.” Martin’s expression softened, but his concern was still there. “Except when they make me worry.”

“I’m fine, Martin.” 

“Mm-hmm.”

“What?”

“I mean, something’s obviously on your mind, but...”

“But?”

“I just mean you’re not saying it. And it’s--it’s fine, I just...I don’t want to not be able to help you.”

“You know if it was something between us--”

“N-no, I know, I know,” Martin kept his eyes away from Jon, “I-I know, just. I’d hate to not be able to do anything for you. That’s all.”

Jon frowned, and started nervously fiddling with his own hair. God, how he hated making Martin worry like this. Jon knew, he _knew_ , he couldn’t not tell Martin what was wrong, and then expect Martin to help him. Yet here he was, expecting it. No, if he wanted something, he’d need to bring it up, no matter how he felt about asking. 

Jon twisted his hair between his thumb and index finger. “I...well. There--there’s something I need to ask of you, though. I mean, I’ve, I’ve wanted to for a while. Nothing to do with...with us, or you. Just something I was...I was wondering if you might consider doing from time to time.”

Martin’s hand fell from Jon’s hair. He lowered his eyebrows. “Sure...? What is it?”

“Well, that’s...that’s just it. I...I don’t quite know how to ask this.”

“What, like, just can’t find the words?”

“Yes, very much so. I...I suppose I could just tell you directly. I just...”

“Hmm?”

“Well, I’d hate to impose, is all.”

“Oh,” Martin scoffed and rolled his eyes, “Jon, come on.”

“What?”

“I love you, and we live together. If you need me to do something, it’s not imposing. Unless it’s like, murder, or something.”

“No, no. Nothing like murder. I'm not asking for anything like that.”

“Well, I’m not saying I _won’t_ murder,” Martin objected, flashing a smile that made Jon smile back, softly. “I’ll murder someone with you. Or for you. I would just need to know who and why.”

“Of course, of course. I’ll keep that in mind, Martin. But...you’re...right, in that it isn’t imposing. I know that. I suppose I’ve just had trouble asking. It...feels like quite a lot to ask of you.”

“...Okay?” Martin frowned, and Jon could sense his confusion. He inhaled, a little sharply, and looked away from Martin for a moment. He could back away now, say it isn’t important, that he needed more time, that they could come back to it, but…

Jon sighed. This wasn’t getting anywhere. He knew finding the exact words would be difficult. His experience was difficult. Not difficult as though it were inherently painful, but difficult in that it was like a maze. The convoluted, hard to follow and understand things in the newspaper. The things that were all unique to themselves, different in form and structure and shape, but still called the same thing: a maze. Confusing, difficult to explain, shaped in a way that fit them specifically. 

No, he couldn’t wait forever. It wouldn’t get any less confusing, any easier to describe. Mazes solutions aren’t described; they are thought of, felt out. There’s no easy way to describe a thing that needs to be tested out, understood through experience. And Jon was getting nowhere searching for a way to adequately, precisely, accurately, describe his maze. He swallowed, a little thickly, and looked at Martin, who was still looking at him in consternation. Jon sighed, swallowing again, collecting himself, readying himself. The silence was thick and heavy, and Martin wasn’t the type to break it. It took Jon a moment to find his voice. 

“I was--I was just wondering, Martin, if you could...could use...if...if you could use other words to refer to me sometimes. I-I mean, you don’t--have to. But I’d like it.”

“Other words?” 

“L-like...instead of 'he', using 'they'. Just alternating between them. I...I mean I’m comfortable with anything really, but if you could use 'they' in place of 'he', I would appreciate it. I...have been wanting this for some time, and yes, I could’ve said so sooner, but I...I couldn’t find the words for it. I thought I would need to explain myself more, get into why I’m asking this of you. But I...I don’t know how to explain myself. What words to use, or how to frame it. Except that it is confusing, and hard to navigate.” Jon frowned, and looked away.

He could feel Martin’s eyes on him, and couldn’t bring himself to meet them. He didn’t want to guess or see what Martin was saying, just by looking at him. He _could_ guess, and he could even just _know_ it, and he didn’t want to face any of those options. He swallowed again, focusing on a tear on one of the arms of the sofa, the yellowish-white insides pushing out and collecting dust, becoming a part of their own exterior. Jon felt a large hand wrapping around theirs. They sighed, and then looked at Martin, a little sadly. 

Martin looked at Jon, not sadly. Gently. “Jon.”

“Martin?”

“You don’t have to explain yourself, you know.”

“I--well, yes, I know, but I--” Jon stumbled over the words, falling to their metaphorical knees, “I know I don’t, but I thought...I just thought I owed it to you.”

“Owed...it to me? Owed what?”

“I don’t know. A reason. A justification.”

“For what?”

“I’m not sure, really. Inconveniencing you, I suppose.”

“But Jon, you’re...you’re not doing that. Not at all. You know that, right?”

“I do,” Jon sighed, “but it just feels like I’m asking a lot. I’ve never asked it of anyone before.”

“I mean...don’t get into it if it makes you, like, uncomfortable, but...did you just figure this out, or...?”

“No, not...not really. I’ve felt this way for some time. It never really occurred to me that I could just ask people to use other words for me, I suppose. But even before I did, I...was worried about something else. That people would...interpret it in the wrong way. People often think some words denote particular alignments with...with gender, and I worried that would lead to others invalidating my--my romantic orientation.”

“Oh. Christ.” Martin frowned. “I’m so sorry. I hope I didn’t make you feel that way.”

“I don’t think you did. I...want you to know that this doesn’t change the way I feel about you. Or, or how you feel about me, as far as descriptors go. That’s why I brought this up. But that’s...my point, really. I never felt like I could say that, without...all of this being invalidated. I didn’t think it was possible to feel this way about myself, but still feel the way I do about attraction. To men, to women, to those who are neither.”

“I get it,” said Martin, giving a little smile, “really. And I--I just want to say thanks, I guess. For telling me. It’s not an inconvenience. And, listen-- _any_ words you want me to call you, just let me know. Or, words you don’t want me to use? Tell me that, too, if you want to. You don’t need to give an explanation. I won’t ask.”

“Thank you.” Jon returned Martin’s small smile, and moved their free hand to on top of Martin’s. “I mean what I said, too. This...it doesn’t change us.”

“Of course not. I...I mean...I figure you’d _tell me_ if it did.”

“I would, yes. It...it feels all the same to me, being with you. Really, when I think it comes to this sort of thing...that’s the only time I really feel a connection. The only time it really makes sense for me, actually. I’m more sure of my attraction than I am of anything else, I think. That makes sense, and I believe it always has. I realize this...probably only makes it more confusing. I don’t want it to negate my feelings about my identity. That was always my primary concern.”

“I don’t think it does.”

“No?”

“No, I...I think it makes sense, actually. Sort of like a maze, right? They’re all really hard to understand and follow sometimes. Start and end in two different places, and it’s never really the same for each maze. Doesn’t mean they’re not all a maze, though. Just...the way you get there is different. Maybe more difficult to navigate, depending on who you are.”

“Yes,” Jon smiled a little wider, “I...thought of a maze as well. More in the sense that it is difficult to follow and understand, but you’re right. I didn’t really consider how they all had a solution at the end of them.”

Martin brought his eyebrows together, a cheeky look spreading across his face. He framed his cheek with his free hand and smirked. “Oh, I see.”

Jon frowned in confusion. “What?”

“You’re saying at the end of your maze there’s a solution, something that makes it start making a little bit more sense.”

“You realize I meant that _generally_. You aren’t the first person I have been romantically involved with, Martin. I did date Georgie for some time. I felt similarly about my relationship with her and my own feelings about myself at the time. I didn’t quite get to asking her to use other words for me, but I’d certainly explained some of how I felt to her. She felt about the same way you do.”

“Yeah, but still. At the end of this big confusing maze there’s still something that makes sense. Or perhaps, _someone_.”

“Fine.” Jon sighed, affectionately, and smiled despite themselves. “Yes, _fine_. You’re my maze solution, Martin. Are you happy?”

Martin leaned back against the sofa and crossed his arms, making a contained smug expression. “Delighted.”

“Georgie would’ve said the same thing.”

“Because you get this _really cute_ look on you when someone makes you say things like that, and it’s fun seeing you like this.”

Jon’s face colored as he felt himself well up in affection. They murmured a few flimsy words about not being that adorable, slid closer to Martin, and kissed him, before Martin could reaffirm what Jon really already knew was true.


End file.
